Doctor vs Doctor
by Tail Kinker
Summary: What happens when House meets another doctor, one who is even more of an insufferable know it all than himself? This story arc is complete, and a new story arc begins in DvD: The Zygon Alliance.
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

* * *

_Day One, 17:06_

"House!"

Dr. Gregory House, head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, rolled his eyes and turned to face his boss. "Doctor Cuddy? Is this a pressing medical concern? If so, please remove your shirt so I can get to play doctor. If not, I'm off the clock."

"You still owe me two hours of clinic duty this week." Dr. Lisa Cuddy crossed her arms, a scowl etched into her brow.

"I knew I shouldn't have drawn three cards. I shoulda just folded." House sighed. "Why couldn't you have brought this up when I was sitting in my office, doing nothing?"

"Because you wouldn't have objected as much." Cuddy held out a stack of folders. "I've got four waiting for you. Get them done, and we'll call that one hour."

House reluctantly took the folders. "So if I do them all in five minutes, I might still get to play golf. Great."

"Five minutes, and you can get back to your porn," quipped Cuddy. "Just get them done, all right?"

* * *

"Breathe deeply."

The man inhaled a lungful of air, and House shook his head. He dropped the stethoscope. "You have a mild cold. No problems with your lungs, just a bunch of congestion in your nose." He scribbled out a prescription. "Get this filled, follow the instructions on the bottle, and you'll have no further problems."

The man looked down at the slip. "Is this for cold medicine?"

"No. Potassium cyanide. It inhibits the body's ability to absorb oxygen, and then it won't matter if you have problems with your breathing. Of _course_ it's cold medicine, you moron."

* * *

"I cut myself."

House examined the wound, on the woman's upper arm. "How did you manage to do this?"

"I tripped while unloading the dishwasher, and the knife went into my arm."

House nodded. "Who are you protecting?"

"What?"

"The knife wound is in the back of the arm. You would have had to trip most impressively to cause this sort of injury, and then the wound would have been more extensive. If you were mugged, you would have just admitted it." House pulled open a drawer, and extracted a suture kit. "So let's get that sewn up, and then you can have a nice chat with the police."

"I've had this persistent headache for about a week now." The man was rubbing his temple, the hand jerky and trembling. "It's been keeping me from sleeping well, and making me cranky. My wife has been complaining."

"How many cups of coffee do you drink in a day?"

"None." The man shook his head. "I don't like coffee. I drink green tea."

House rolled his eyes. "Green tea has more caffeine in it than the strongest of coffees."

"I thought it had less."

"You're suffering from caffeination." House stood up. "Cut back to, I'd say a third of whatever you're drinking at this point."

"And then I'll get better?"

"Sure, after about three weeks." He almost grinned at the poor goon. "But only after you get through the withdrawal. And trust me, that will make your current problems seem mild."

* * *

Last one; maybe he'd get to salvage his night after all. Purple stewardess' uniform, brown mop of hair, not unattractive..."You're a long way from Australia, miss..." He consulted the folder. "Tegan Jovanka."

"How did you know I was Australian?"

"Well, the Quantas uniform was a hint. Been a while since I've travelled Quantas, but I remember the purple." He glanced up at the woman's companion, a rather short blonde man wearing a light tan suit and...

"Is that a stalk of celery on your lapel?"

"Yes." The man's English was clear British Received. "It's handy, you see, for detecting certain gasses in the Praxis range that I happen to be allergic to."

"Celery does that?"

The man nodded. House shrugged.

Tegan decided to speak up. "Doctor--"

"Yes?" Both men answered, then looked at each other.

House was the first to speak. "I'm glad that you're not my patient. Doctors make miserable patients."

"Actually, my doctorate is honourary."

House snorted. "If I'd known that they were just giving the damn things away, I wouldn't have worked my ass off getting mine."

"Doctor!" Again, both men looked at her, and she sighed. "The scruffy-looking doctor. Please. The medical doctor."

House shrugged. "Guess I'm the scruffy looking one."

"Can we possibly get on with the medicine part?" Tegan rolled up her sleeve, and presented her arm.

"Hm." House looked over the exposed skin. "Edema in the hand and lower arm. Might be caused by exposure to an irritant." He glanced pointedly at Tegan's companion. "Speaking of which, I didn't catch your name."

"Name. Right. I normally just go by the Doctor."

"In a hospital, that is bound to produce confusion," House pointed out.

"Well, then, I suppose you can call me Doctor Smith."

"Oh, that'll narrow it down." House glanced back at Tegan. "Have you been exposed to any harsh chemicals recently?"

"More than I care to count," muttered Tegan bitterly.

"Cortisone cream." House scribbled the prescription on his pad. "Follow the directions on the bottle." He tore the slip off the pad and held it out. Tegan reached for it, but he snatched it back. "Wait."

"What?"

"Gimme your hand." He took it gently, turning it over. "Damage to the cuticles." He squeezed the hand gently, causing her to yelp. "Tenderness. And from the look of the ring on your finger, your hands are swollen." He fished into a pocket, pulling out a small penlight, and shone it in her eyes. "Bloodshot eyes...Have you had a fever or headache?"

"Yes."

"Joint pains?"

"Yes, that too."

"Have you been out of the country recently?"

"Just a bit." Again the same bitterness.

House sighed, and stepped back. "I'm having you both admitted, and confined to quarantine."

"What have I got?" There was abruptly a note of panic in her voice.

"I can't be certain, not until we run some tests. Please wait here; an orderly will escort you to your room."

House stepped out of the examining room, and sighed. He pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket, pulled them on, then fished a mask from a nearby box. The nurse's eyes widened. "Doctor--"

"Quarantine procedures, room three. Get security here, make sure they don't leave." He picked up the phone, dialled a number. "Chase? Get your ass back in here. No, call Cameron, then both of you get in here. I'll call Foreman."

"What's going on?"

"We might have a case of Ebola here."


	2. Chapter 2

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**Disclaimer**

__

All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me.

* * *

Day One, 18:16

"Blood cultures for Ebolavirus can take up to five days."

"Thank you, Doctor Cameron." House's tone was acerbic. "By that time, I could be showing frank symptoms, and we will know for certain."

"Your contact with Tegan was limited at best," offered Foreman. "There's only been one case of airborne transmission."

"I don't want to be the second case." House glanced over at Chase. "You want to put your two cents worth in?"

Chase shrugged. "Not really. I think you're being sensible. And I feel a hell of a lot safer with a glass door between us."

House sighed. "Figured you'd say that. Now, what about her buddy, the honourary Doctor Smith?"

"We've got him in a separate isolation room, but he isn't co-operating very well. He's refused to give a blood sample, claiming it's against his religion."

"Anyone know of a religion that prohibits blood samples?"

"No," said Cameron. "But we're doctors, not theology experts."

"Fine. So we'll concentrate on Tegan. What indicators can we use to confirm or deny Ebola hemorrhagic fever?"

"CBC, electrolyte count, coagulation studies."

"Great. You get started on coagulation. Foreman, get me an electrolyte count. Cameron, you get the CBC."

* * *

_Day One, 21:33_

"How seriously is he taking this?"

"I hope pretty damn serious," snorted Foreman. "I don't care for the idea of airborne Ebola in a hospital."

"I don't mean the disease," snapped Cameron. "I mean the quarantine. When was the last time House did anything like putting himself in quarantine? Maybe he's doing this just so he doesn't have to do any actual work."

"There's two problems with your theory." Foreman glanced at his monitor, scribbled some notes. "First of all, when was the last time that House _didn't_ avoid work? Without the excuse of being in quarantine, I mean?"

"Good point."

"And second, there's a TV in the quarantine room. Notice that it's off."

"Okay, okay." Cameron stopped her centrifuge, printed the results. "Got the CBC."

"Good. Get it to House. I'll be along in five minutes or so."

* * *

_Day One, 21:38_

"CBC reveals a slightly depressed white count, but nothing else of note. Coagulation is normal, and so are electrolytes."

"Which tells us it's not Ebola," mused House. He shrugged, and opened the door. "Best news I've had all day, Chase."

"Whoa." Chase took a step back. "It isn't Ebola, but it might be something else infectious."

House shrugged. "I'm willing to bet your life on it."

* * *

_Day One, 21:40_

"Okay, people, differential diagnosis." House picked up a marker. "We've got joint pain." He scribbled it down on the white board. "Edema on the hands and lower arms, as well as the abdomen. Headache, fever, bloodshot eyes, and depressed white count. Swollen and tender hands. Who's our bandit?"

"Depressed white count could be an indication of an autoimmune disease," offered Cameron. "Lupus also causes joint pain, fever, headache, and edema, and can cause the swelling."

"It's never Lupus," muttered House. "You're an immunologist; everything looks like Lupus to you."

"Besides that," offered Chase, "she hasn't complained of sensitivity to light, nor of nausea."

"Lupus rarely presents the same way between two patients," argued Cameron.

"You prescribed Cortisone cream for her rash," said Chase. "Cortisone can lead to immunodepression that looks a lot like Lupus."

"I prescribed it, but then quarantined her before she had a chance to use it. Besides, she'd have to eat the whole tube to get this sort of reaction. You Aussies eat some weird stuff, but I don't think even you would spread Cortisone on your biscuits."

"What about a simple allergic reaction?" Chase leaned forwards. "She came in originally complaining of a rash, and admitted to fever and headache. Maybe she took a drug to treat the headache and fever, and it triggered the rash and swelling."

"Two bandits instead of one? What about the depressed white count?" Foreman shook his head. "What about malaria? She's been out of country, after all. Explains the fever, headache and joint pain, and it can lead to destruction of blood cells, producing the atypical CBC."

"Still no nausea. But hey, she's an airline stew. She might have a cast-iron stomach." House turned. "Okay. Cameron, you suggested Lupus. Get an ANA panel and a family history. Chase, find out what she took to treat the headache. Maybe she's into alternative medicine. Foreman, check her liver and spleen, take a smear for malaria."

"Malarial smears will need twenty-four hours to complete."

"Then you'd better get on it."

"What about Doctor Smith?" asked Cameron. "We can't get blood from him, and he is refusing even non-invasive tests."

"The man wears a vegetable as protection against poison gas. Maybe we can get him declared legally insane." House considered. "If it's an allergic reaction, or Lupus, he's safe. The only problem is if it's malaria. What can we test without poking a hole in him?"

"He hasn't shown any symptoms, hasn't complained of any." Cameron shrugged. "Maybe we can just give him anti-malarials, and hope for the best?"

"_If_ he will take them," muttered House. "Give it a try."

* * *

_Day One, 22:14_

"I keep telling you, I'm perfectly healthy," fumed Doctor Smith. "How long are you going to keep me penned up in here?"

"You could be carrying the malaria parasite," said Cameron. "That makes you a possible disease vector. We need to contain that." She placed a pill cup in the airlock, and closed it. "Take those pills, and in three hours, you're a free man. Deal?"

"Oh, very well." He opened the inner door, and tossed back the pills. "Though I really must say, there's no fear of me carrying the disease. We haven't been anywhere that malaria is common."

"Anti-malarials are completely harmless." Cameron made a note on her clipboard. "It's for your own protection, as well as ours, Doctor Smith."

"Please, just call me Doctor."

"We're in a hospital. I can't just call you Doctor, or I'll have a dozen people looking at me."

"Now, what about Tegan?"

"We've started her on anti-malarials as well, though if she does have malaria, she's too far into frank symptoms for the drugs to help. We're conducting tests on her as well, but they will take up to a full day to show results, especially if the results are negative."

"I have some devices that could assist in the process."

"Thank you, Doctor Smith, but I'm afraid that we have to use our own devices. If we don't, the Board will ask us why not, and possibly feel that they're spending too much money on our department." She looked up and smiled. "But thank you for offering."

Her pager went off, and she grabbed it and glanced down. "Oh, my god."

"What?"

She turned and ran down the corridor. Doctor Smith leaned up against the glass.

"What is going on?"


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer_**

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

* * *

_Day One, 22:17_

"Clear!"

The cardiotechnician pushed the buttons, and Tegan's body tensed as electricity rushed through her body. He stepped back, and glanced up at the monitors. Her heart rate stabilized, but then dissolved again into meaningless fibrillation.

"Again!"

He thumbed the controls on the paddles, and called, "Charging." He stepped forward again, placing one paddle on her side and the other just above her breast. "Clear!" He triggered the defibrillator again. The girl twitched slightly, and he stepped back. This time the monitors remained steady.

"What the hell happened?"

The resident shrugged. "She complained of a bit of heartburn, then suddenly fell out of her chair. I checked her pulse, couldn't find it, and called the crash."

"Wasn't she hooked up to the monitors?"

"She'd just come back from the bathroom. She'd gotten two sensors reconnected - the Oh-Two-Sat and BP - when she fell over."

House rolled his eyes. "The sensors are mobile, you know."

"She didn't want to drag them along with her."

"This is why I hate patients." He turned back to the cardiotechnician. "Will she live?"

"Heart rate is steady and strong. I don't know what happened."

* * *

_Day One, 22:23_

"She went into ventricular fibrillation. Defib brought her out of it, and luckily, we didn't have to perform CPR." Chase knuckled a yawn into submission, and added, "Means it's not likely malaria."

"Unless she has an underlying heart condition." House paused as Chase yawned again. "Are we keeping you up?"

"Sorry. I had an early-morning appointment today."

"It _is_ getting late, House." Foreman leaned back. "Maybe we ought to knock off for the night."

"Fine." House turned back to the whiteboard, and scrawled on it. "Ventricular fibrillation. Another symptom to add to this list. Think about it in your dreams." He capped the marker and tossed it onto the tray. "I'll stay here tonight, in case Tegan decides to get sicker."

* * *

_Day One, 22:31_

"Okay. What the heck is wrong with him?"

Cameron blinked. "I agree that he's being a little more cautious with this case, but Ebola--"

"We've ruled out Ebola," stated Chase.

"And I think there's something wrong with him personally," added Foreman. He paused to open the ER doors--the main doors were locked at this hour--for Chase and Cameron. "He's never spent the night in the hospital before. He assigns that sort of scut work to one of us."

"I don't think it's Tegan that has him really interested in this case," observed Cameron.

* * *

Day One, 22:33

House dragged a chair down the hall, then slid it back against the wall and dropped into it. He leisurely crossed his legs, and dropped the tip of his cane between his feet. His gaze settled firmly on the man behind the glass. The cricket-garbed Doctor was lying back on his bed, and cracked one eye open.

"Doctor House."

"Doctor Smith."

"How's Tegan?"

House shrugged. "She's doing well. Still don't know what she's got."

"Your companion, Doctor Cameron, was called away suddenly. Why?"

House drew in a deep breath. "I'm afraid that that falls into the category of doctor/patient confidentiality. I could tell you, but then..."

"You'd have to kill me?"

"Well, that or lose my medical license, be fired, probably be sued...killing you would be easier."

Doctor Smith chuckled. "So. Swelling, rash, joint pain, edema on the hands, fever and headache, bloodshot eyes...did I miss any symptoms?"

"Nope. That was everything you were present for."

"Has she shown any symptoms since?"

"I'm not here for a consult, _Doctor_ Smith."

"Then why are you here?" Smith stood, and walked over to the glass barrier. "Are you going to badger me for a sample, as your minions did?"

"Minions. I like that." House grinned. "No, Doctor. I'm here because I drew the night watch on Tegan, but she's sound asleep. And therefore boring company."

"And it never occurred to you that I might also wish to sleep?"

House ignored the question. "Tegan says that she's been out of country. Since you're a Brit and she's an Aussie, I can easily believe that. Question is, where?"

"I can assure you that it has no bearing on her illness."

"But your doctorate is honourary." House pointed a finger. "You told me this yourself."

"That doesn't mean I'm uneducated."

"Does your education include medicine?"

"Yes."

"Differential diagnosis, Doctor. What causes all of Tegan's known symptoms?"

"Ebola was your first guess. I assume that you've done a complete blood count?"

"Yes. As well as a coagulation study. Both were negative for Ebola."

"Do you play this game with your minions as well?" Smith leaned forwards, his hands steepled, fingertips holding his nose millimeters from the glass. "Do they get the full list of symptoms, or just a partial list?"

"My _minions_ are assigned to this case. You are not. But you..." House wagged a finger at Smith. "You have some information that you're holding back. A lot of information, actually. I'm just holding back one piece of information: Tegan's latest symptom. And legally, I have not only the right, but the obligation to do so." House leaned back again. "Unless I convince my boss that I can trust you, that is."

"So let me speak to your boss."

"Sorry. She's not in until nine o'clock."

"Doctor Cameron told me that I'd be out of this fishbowl by..." Smith fished out a wristwatch from a pocket. "One fourteen in the morning." He dropped the watch back into his pocket. "Does that still hold?"

House shrugged. "Sure." He pointed his cane at Smith's pocket. "Wouldn't it make more sense to wear that wristwatch on your wrist?"

"Oh, well." The Doctor shrugged. "The band got snagged once, when I was running from a Sontaran, and since then, I've just not had a use for wearing it."

"Right." House sighed, and fished into his own pocket. He uncapped it, and popped a Vicodin.

"Is that a recent injury?"

"Hm?" House glanced down at his leg. "No. Happened years ago. Deep vein thrombosis that went undiagnosed, and had to be surgically bypassed. I used the case in a lecture about three weeks ago."

"And the drug helps with the chronic pain."

"Yeah."

Smith nodded. "Must be difficult, living with that pain."

"Are you a doctor of psychology?" House waved it off. "Right. Honourary. So. Differential diagnosis?"

"I'll need her latest symptom."

"And I need more information from you as well." House started ticking points off. "Family history. Blood work. Travel history. Any toxic exposure that you're aware of."

"I have religious reasons not to give--"

"Oh, cut the hogwash." House pushed himself to his feet. "You've probably got a very good reason not to tell me anything, and it's probably something illegal. But if you don't cough up some information, I'm not going to tell you anything more until you do."

"At one fourteen, I can simply go see Tegan myself."

"Nope." House shook his head. "She's still in isolation."

"Tell me, Doctor." Smith's expression was grave, despite his light tone. "Why do you feel the need to know everything?"

"I'm still not on a couch, _Doctor._" House turned and started down the corridor again. Smith watched him walk off, then turned and sat back down on the bed.

"Well, that didn't go as well as I'd hoped."

* * *

_Historian's Note: This story takes place, on the Doctor Who timeline, between Time Flight and Arc of Infinity - Adric is already dead. On the House timeline, it takes part between Honeymoon and Acceptance, between the first and second seasons - Stacy has just been hired on as the hospital's lawyer._


	4. Chapter 4

**_Disclaimer_**

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

* * *

_Day Two, 09:14_

"Wake up."

House didn't move. His feet were up on a footstool, the rest of him was sprawled into his armchair untidily.

"Come on, House. Wake up."

Still nothing.

"House. Clinic."

House opened one eye and looked up blearily towards Cuddy. "We had an agreement. While I have an active patient, I don't need to do clinic hours."

Cuddy shook her head in puzzlement. "I don't recall making such an agreement."

"Doesn't make it any less valid."

"It's not valid." She stepped fully through his office doors, letting them swing shut behind her. "Besides, you've got three other doctors--" She paused. "Who's he?"

"Who's who?" Cuddy was looking past House; he turned to look over to his desk. "Oh. Him." He grabbed his cane and struggled to his feet. "Doctor John Smith. A friend of my patient. But not one of mine, mostly because he's sitting at my desk, without my permission."

Smith waved cheerily. "Hello!"

"Get out of my chair."

"Sorry." Smith hopped out of the chair. "Ventricular fibrillation."

"What?" House shook his head, not entirely awake. "Oh. Tegan's most recent symptom. Who told you?"

"Her chart," said Smith.

"House--" began Cuddy.

"And why exactly were you going through her chart?"

"She's my friend!"

"And I'm her doctor!" snarled House.

"House!"

House whirled to face Cuddy. "What?"

"The clinic is currently packed to the ceiling. We've got sixteen people with the same symptoms. That's in addition to the usual crowd."

"Unless the symptoms are identical with my patients, I don't really care."

"Edema, rash, fever, headache, general Ebola-like symptoms?" Cuddy indicated the whiteboard. "Except for the fibrillation, they're identical."

"Whoa." House raised a hand. "You've got sixteen people with Ebola downstairs?"

"No, I said they had identical symptoms to Miss Jovanka."

House frowned. "Doctor Smith. How many people did you and Tegan meet on the way to the hospital?"

"No-one." Smith shook his head. "We came right from my ship to the hospital, met no-one on the way except the triage nurse."

"And she's fine," offered Cuddy. "How long have you and Miss Jovanka been in the States, Doctor?"

Smith pulled his wristwatch from his pocket. "Given that it's now nine sixteen...just under eighteen hours."

"Way too early for Ebola to manifest symptoms. Or for that matter, pretty much any other disease." House turned to Cuddy. Round those people up, get them in some kind of isolation. Isolated from us, that is. You can put them all in the same room, if you need to. And call CDC. They might have some information for us."

* * *

_Day Two, 12:03_

"What the hell is a 'police call box'?"

House glanced up from his sandwich - one that he had, for a switch, purchased himself. "Jesus, Wilson. You look like hell."

"I do?" Wilson glanced down at himself.

"No. Well, you're a bit ruffled."

"Cuddy has an all-hands on this epidemic." Wilson sat down tiredly. "Forty people, now. If we get many more, we're going to have to turn all of floor three into a giant quarantine ward. I've run fifteen CBCs so far today, which has proven it's not Ebola, but _something_ is causing these people's bodies to break down, much as Ebola does."

"What does that have to do with a police call box?"

"I pulled up to my parking spot today, and there was this big blue box, with those words on it." Wilson unwrapped his salad. "Looked like a phone booth. But who ever heard of a phone booth with a lock?"

"Who ever heard of a police call box in New Jersey?" House scowled. "Or in our parking lot?" He paused for a bite of Reuben, and considered the problem as he chewed. "I think we should talk to Glen in Security."

* * *

_Day Two, 12:33_

"We've got fifty people in quarantine now," groused Cuddy. "And still no idea what's affecting them. Except that it's moving a lot faster than Ebola."

"Fever seems to indicate some sort of infection," offered Foreman. "The edema could be caused by that same infection."

"That narrows it down." Cuddy glanced around the office. "Where's House?"

"No idea." Chase shrugged. "Said he had to see a man about a...phone box."

"Well, when he gets back, tell him--" Cuddy paused as a girl stepped through the office door. "Sorry. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to see my friend, Tegan Jovanka." The girl - sixteen or seventeen, by Cuddy's rough estimate - was dressed in a crushed velvet pantsuit. Her accent sounded British, but there was an odd inflection that she couldn't place. "I was told to talk to Doctor House."

"Doctor House is currently on a consult." Cuddy detested the man, but she didn't want to admit that he was AWOL. "I'm his boss, Doctor Cuddy. I am afraid that Miss Jovanka is in isolation, and cannot have visitors."

"But the Doctor told me that whatever she has, I can't catch. He was most clear on that."

"Which doctor?" Cuddy looked a bit puzzled.

"The Doctor. Oh. He said to call him Doctor Smith."

Cuddy's puzzlement sharpened into suspicion. "Well. Let me help you out with this. Can you come to my office, miss..."

"Nyssa Tremas, of Traken." The girl nodded. "Certainly."

"Excellent. Doctor Chase, would you please page Stacy Warner to my office?"

* * *

_Day Two, 12:44_

"Can't do it." Glen shook his head. "Unless you got a court order, I can't let you see the feeds for anywhere in the hospital. It's against the law."

House rolled his eyes. "The parking lot is not in the hospital. Ergo, the law does not apply."

"Look, you want to see _any_ of the tapes, you gotta get authorization."

"Like from Stacy Warner, our hospital's lawyer?"

"Yeah, that would do."

"Fine." House pulled out his cell phone, and punched a button. "Stacy. Greg. Got a minute?"

"You've got Stacy on speed dial?" Wilson chuckled.

"Stacy, I need to look at the feed from the parking lots yesterday. Has to do with my case. Yeah, the Ebola girl. Glen's being stubborn." House glared at the security chief. "Claims I need a court order to look at the great outdoors."

Glen was starting to look worried.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to take any time out of your busy schedule. Or Cuddy's."

"All right!" Glen threw up his hands. "Give me three minutes to set up the tape!" He turned and walked back into the security room.

House closed his cell phone, and commented, "Well, that was easier than I expected."

"I can't believe you have Stacy on speed-dial." Wilson considered. "No, scratch that. That makes perfect sense. I can't believe you went through proper channels for something."

House shrugged. "Pizza guy sure was confused."


	5. Chapter 5

**_Disclaimer_**

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

* * *

_Day Two, 13:02_

"Video feed went to hell here, at four fifty three PM." House tapped the screen. "Interference lasted ten seconds, and when the feed was restored, the box was there."

"Weird," observed Wilson.

"No kidding." House leaned back in the chair. "Those police call boxes are actually made of cement. Nobody could have moved it there in only ten seconds."

"Looked like wood to me."

"Really?" House glanced back at the screen. "If it's just a mockup, it might be more portable. But still, only ten seconds..."

"You want to check it out in person?"

"Yeah, that might be good."

His cell phone rang. House sighed, and flipped it open. "House."

"House, Cuddy. I need you in my office right now."

"Should I bring the rubbers, or do you have that covered?"

"Stacy's here, with a girl who was looking for you."

"Ooh. Foursome. Gimme three minutes." He snapped the phone shut. "Gotta go, Wilson. Fun and games await."

* * *

_Day Two, 13:08_

"Doctor House." Cuddy indicated the chair in front of her desk. "Please, have a seat."

"Why, thank you, Doctor Cuddy." House's voice was just a bit sarcastic. He glanced around the office, saw Stacy leaning against a file cabinet, and a brown-haired girl, young-looking, in the chair next to the offered one. He dropped himself into the chair, crossed his legs at the ankle, and dropped his cane between his toes. "How can I assist you today?"

"This is Nyssa Tremas." Cuddy indicated the girl. "She's a friend of Tegan's."

"You can't see her." House didn't even look at the girl. "She's in isolation."

"But the Doctor told me--"

"Doctor John Smith?" House waved it off. "He's not a medical doctor. Or a real doctor at all. He told me his doctorate is purely honourary."

"Doctor House, Miss Tremas gave me reason to believe that 'John Smith' is not his real name."

"I was getting the same impression from the good Doctor myself." House nodded. His hand fished into his pocket, grasped the vial of Vicodin. "What would you suggest that we do about it?"

"Legally," offered Stacy, "we can't do anything at all. He's not a patient, nor is he submitting insurance forms, and therefore, under the law, he can give any name he chooses, and we have to honour that name."

"But he's also calling himself a doctor," objected Cuddy.

"Is he performing medicine?"

Cuddy sighed, and admitted, "No, he's not."

"Then who cares?" House laboriously stood up. "Anything else, boss, or can I get back to doing my job?"

"Miss Tremas wished to see her friend, Tegan."

"I told her. Tegan's in isolation."

"The Doctor told me that I can't catch whatever it is she has," insisted Nyssa. "Earth-type pathogens are very different from Traken diseases."

There was a brief silence, then House asked, "Earth-type diseases?"

"Yes." Nyssa nodded. "And the only Earth pathogens that affects Trakenites are rabies - whatever that is - and rhinovirus. A cold won't kill me. How is rabies transmitted?"

"Exposure to infected bodily fluids, such as saliva from a bite." House shook his head. "You're saying that you're not from Earth."

"That's correct." She frowned. "The Doctor wouldn't be happy with me for telling you that, but I don't see how it could hurt."

"Miss Tremas, could you wait outside my office, please?" Lisa stood up. "I'll need to confer with my colleagues before we can make a decision on your request."

"Certainly." She stood up, and stepped outside.

Cuddy waited until the door closed, and said, "Okay. She's nuts."

"You sure about that?" House shrugged. "She's probably just lying, to get in to see her friend."

"How infectious is Tegan?"

House shrugged. "No idea. We've got some cultures growing, but I'm guessing that whatever is wrong with her is systemic, and therefore not an issue."

"What infectious diseases account for all her symptoms?"

"Only Ebola accounts for _all_ of them," admitted House. "But as my minions have pointed out to me, it might be malaria with an additional allergic reaction to whatever she took to treat the early symptoms."

"And what did she take?"

"Don't know." House stood up. "I've got a meeting with them in ten minutes. So if we're all done here?"

"House." Stacy stepped forward. "Do us a favour, and see if you can find it in your heart to let Nyssa visit Tegan."

House frowned. "Why would that do you a favour?"

"Because we want to find out more about this crowd." Stacy grinned. "Maybe, if they're chatting, they'll drop a hint."

"Not to mention," added Cuddy, "whatever the hell it is that has sixty-five people in isolation upstairs - thank God the case count has stopped rising - might have come in with them."

House shrugged. "Okay." He turned and walked out.

Cuddy glanced over at Stacy. "Was that too easy?"

"Way too easy." Stacy nodded. "Want me to keep an eye on him?"

"No." Cuddy sighed. "If he's busy looking into this disease, he's largely harmless. Except to Tegan."

* * *

_Day Two, 13:24_

"You're late," observed Foreman.

"Thank you, Foreman, for that dose of phenomenal observation." House grabbed his coffee cup. "Had a meeting with Cuddy, and her pet alien."

"Stacy?" asked Cameron.

"No, the new alien." He poured a cup of coffee. "Tegan's test results. Where are we?"

"Malarial smears are still working up," said Foreman. "But preliminary results look awfully negative. Plus, the MRI revealed no swelling in either the liver or the spleen."

"She took Ibuprofen for the fever and headache," said Chase. "She's taken it before, with no negative results, and the odds of a spontaneous sensitivity appearing are rather low."

"Strike two, then. Cameron?"

"ANA clears her of Lupus, as does her family history."

"Strike three, and we're out." He paused. "All three of these diagnoses were based on symptoms present when we did the differential. But then she had fibrillation. What if the fibrillation is a substitute batter?"

"You mean, not an unrelated symptom, but one we missed during the initial diagnosis?"

"You see, Cameron? You can understand sports metaphors."

"But fibrillation doesn't fit with any of the above," argued Chase. "It's not on the same team, or even in the same league. It just doesn't show up with anything that also presents with fever, edema, or rash."

"Infection. Foreman keeps bringing that one up. What infections present with ventricular fibrillation?"

"It's a short list." Cameron paused. "Want to hear it again?"

"Ventricular fibrillation is almost always tied to an underlying heart condition." Chase leaned forward. "Now, the number of such conditions that could trigger V-Fib as a result of the body fighting off infection...that list is a bit longer than Cameron's."

"Okay. Foreman, get an LP. Cameron, I want you to double-check her family history. This time, we're looking for heart disease. Chase, you're with me."

"What are we doing?"

House grinned. "Our patient has a visitor who claims not to be human. We're going to look into that possibility."


	6. Chapter 6

**_

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_**

Disclaimer

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

* * *

_Day Two, 13:36_

"Do I have to be naked for this?"

"You stated that you were not human," said House. "External examination would help determine that. Besides, you're not naked."

"Might as well be." Nyssa still wore her bra and underwear, but obviously, neither had been chosen for durability. "Besides, Doctor Chase has cold hands."

"All body measurements are within range of human parameters," observed Chase. "No obvious distinctive features, nothing on limited examination reveals any difference. I'd say she's human."

"Well, I'm not." Nyssa crossed her arms. "The Doctor told me that the differences between Human and Trakenite are internal. In fact, I told you that before we started this examination."

"But the Doctor is not a physician, and therefore may be mistaken." House indicated the door. "Grab a gown, and we'll move onto the next test."

"And the next test is...?"

"MRI," said Chase. "Stands for Magnetic--"

"Magnetic Resonance Imaging, I know." Nyssa picked up a hospital gown and shrugged herself into it. "Why didn't you start with that?"

"MRIs cost money," said House. "External examinations don't. That's why we always start with an external."

"You get many aliens, then?"

"Nope. You're our first." He opened the door for her. "But we have a procedure to follow."

"I am a scientist myself, and understand procedures." Her voice became a bit frosty. "I also know that when parts of a procedure can be avoided without skewing the results, they usually are."

"As I said, you're our first alien." House shrugged. "We can't know what elements can be ignored without skewing results."

* * *

_Day Two, 13:41_

"Okay, Nyssa, I need you to hold very still."

"I understand."

The pallet slid into the MRI machine, and the rhythmic thumping of the capacitors filled the room. Chase released the intercom button, and looked over at House.

"She's right, you know. She did tell us that she was externally identical to a human."

"Absolutely." House glanced back at Chase. "And did you mind running your hands all over her body while she was just in her skimpies?"

"What?"

"Very skimpies, at that."

"Christ, House. She's a patient!"

"No, she's a loony." House twirled his cane. "Nothing in the Hippocratic Oath states we can't take advantage of loonies. Besides, look at her. She's hot."

Chase shook his head. "There are days that you make no sense at all, House. And those are the good days." He glanced back at the MRI screen. "Oh, my God."

* * *

_Day Two, 13:50_

"New patient." House flipped the whiteboard over. "Patient presents with a heart with six chambers, in place of four. Additional vein and artery lead to the brain, plus the usual four to the lungs and the rest of the body. In addition, the patient's heart is perfectly symmetrical to the rest of her body. Differential diagnosis?"

Cameron blinked. "This is a joke, right?"

House tossed an MRI printout on the table, causing a short brawl as Cameron and Foreman dived for it. Foreman emerged the victor, and stared at the results.

"Six chambers, three arteries, three veins...Chase screwed up the MRI. There's no way this can be accurate."

"Confirmed it by stethoscope myself." House sat down wearily. "Patient reported non-terrestrial origins, and we gave that all the credence it deserved. But she might be telling the truth."

There was stunned silence around the table. It was broken by Foreman.

"Okay. So she's from Mars."

"Actually, Traken, according to her. Wherever the hell that is." House glanced over at Cameron. "Doctor Smith has assured her that unless Tegan is rabid, Nyssa can't contract anything from her. See if you can arrange a visit for them. Advise Nyssa that decontamination will have to occur before she leaves the isolation room."

"Why not just let them talk through the intercom?"

"You can try that, but I want her to have the chance to slip something to Tegan."

Cameron blinked.

"If Doctor Smith is trying to get something to her, and using Nyssa as a cutout, we might catch her at it. And speaking of Doctor Smith..." He turned to Foreman. "It's your turn?"

"My turn for what?" Foreman looked confused.

"Your turn to play catch-the-alien."

Chase chuckled.

"Don't worry. We've gotta use different methods to snag this one. He's smarter."

"What makes you think that Smith is an alien?"

"He won't give a blood sample, won't allow any real examination, won't really give us anything to work with." House tapped his cane on the floor. "Obviously, he's trying to hide something."

"Why not just ask him?"

House scoffed. "He'll lie. Patients always lie."

* * *

_Day Two, 14:14_

"Are you an alien?"

House rolled his eyes.

Smith, on the other hand, just looked mildly surprised. "What gave me away?"

"We've discovered that Nyssa Tremas is not human," explained Foreman. "Actually, she announced it to us. We didn't believe her, until we did an MRI and discovered--"

"Six-lobed heart. Right." Smith looked uncommonly aggravated. "Damn, I _told_ her not to just go spouting that off."

Foreman glanced over at House. "What's our procedure for dealing with non-terrestrial life-forms?"

House shrugged. "Well, since they're _illegal_ aliens, I doubt they have medical insurance. Cash at the door."

"That's it?"

"They don't seem to want to use probes on us. I say live and let live." He glanced over at Smith. "Of course, someone with my degree of insatiable curiosity is _not_ gonna leave you alone now."

"I feared as much."

House sat down opposite the Doctor. "What can you tell me about this plague we've encountered? Did you bring it here?"

"No." Smith shook his head. "It couldn't have been us. As I said earlier, we came to the hospital directly from my ship."

"Ship." House's face went blank for a moment, then he shook his head. "Blue police call box?"

"Yes."

"Must be a tight fit."

"It's bigger than it looks."

"Well, that's enough sexual innuendo for now." House leaned back. "So why exactly are you here on Earth?"

"Tegan was concerned about the rash she'd developed, and for some reason, did not trust the medical facilities aboard my TARDIS."

"She's human, right?"

"Yes." Smith nodded. "Born in Brisbane, in fact."

"Doctor Smith," broke in Foreman. "Can you think of any alien disease that may have affected Tegan?"

He shook his head. "None come to mind. You see, most alien diseases will either ignore a human, being completely incompatible with human biology, or will kill them nearly instantly. No immunities."

"Makes sense," mused House. "Same thing happened with Chicken Pox here in America."

"So what Tegan has is most likely terrestrial in origin," finished Smith.

"And our other sixty-five patients?"

"Sixty-five?" Smith blinked in surprise. "I thought it was sixteen?"

"You haven't been keeping up with current events. We've got one entire wing, floor three, set up as an isolation ward."

"May I see them?"

House shrugged. "I don't see why not. As long as you don't want to perform any weird experiments on them." He struggled to his feet, and added, "That's my job."


	7. Chapter 7

**_

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_**

Disclaimer

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

* * *

_Day Two, 15:03_

"Precisely speaking, it's not a disease."

House frowned. "Then what, precisely speaking, is it?"

"Are you familiar with bionanomachine technology?"

"No," admitted House. "But judging from the name, you're referring to artificial lifeforms, on the microscopic level, programmed for specific jobs."

"Precisely." The Doctor nodded. "My people experimented with the technique, thousands of years ago, but abandoned it when more advanced technology was developed. Basically, a bionanomachine is a virus, usually something that doesn't transmit easily, reprogrammed to do something to its host. A small quantity are injected, but reproduce in the bloodstream, like a regular virus. Generally, the bionanites have a cap on the amount of growth they are permitted."

"So these people were deliberately infected?" House stood up slowly. "How could that have been done?"

"There are hundreds of ways it could have been accomplished," admitted the Doctor. "I assume that you've taken histories for these people?"

"Of course."

"May I see them?"

"Doctor Smith...there are a few irregularities that even I cannot overlook. For one thing, you're still not a medical doctor. For another, you're not employed by this hospital. For a third, Cuddy's already given me hell about letting you up there. She still wants your ass kicked out of here."

"That could be a problem." The Doctor considered. "How could we best convince her that I'm here to help?"

"Well...can you offer any proof that you're not human?"

_

* * *

_

Day Two, 14:22

Cuddy nearly dropped the stethoscope. "That's impossible."

"No. Merely highly unlikely." The Doctor rebuttoned his jacket, and leaned back against her desk. "Trust me, I get that reaction a lot. You should have seen Harry's face the first time he listened to my hearts."

"Are you and Nyssa from the same planet, then?"

"No. I'm from a small place called Gallifrey. Tegan's from Traken, but Traken was destroyed. She's the last of the Trakenites." His voice held more than a bit of sorrow at that.

"I still can't believe this." Cuddy turned and started pacing her office. "I've got aliens - real, honest-to-God _aliens_ - in my office, offering to help. Aliens with English accents." She turned to House. "How can you accept this so calmly? You, the big skeptic?"

House shrugged. "Got proof. The internal differences in Nyssa go way beyond human variation; a human simply couldn't survive with a six-chambered heart. Or with two hearts, like Doctor Smith, here."

Cuddy turned back to Smith. "And you're telling me that our plague is being caused by a biotechnology that is centuries beyond our own?"

"Oh, not centuries." Smith grinned. "I expect you'll get there in about one hundred and fifty years. Should be interesting to see. No, I am afraid that this plague comes from another world."

"Invaders from outer space." Cuddy sighed. "House, isn't there some government organization that should be called in on this?"

"Well, we got CDC involved already, and they're puzzled. I suppose we could call in OSI, but they'll just bundle Nyssa and the Doctor off to some safe-house to conduct experiments on them."

"What about the United Nations?" asked Cuddy.

Smith smacked a fist into his palm. "Of course! UNIT!"

"Unit?"

"The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. This is right up their aisle."

"I've never even heard of--" began Cuddy. But Smith had already picked up her telephone.

"Nine for an outside line, right?" He started punching numbers, far too many for even an international call. Cuddy's eyes widened.

Smith chuckled. "When they set up UNIT, they took advantage of a peculiarity in the phone dialling system...Hello, Captain?" He dug into a pocket, pulled out a card. "My authentication code is Theta Sigma one nine six three one one two three one seven one five."

"Doctor--"

"Hullo, Brigadier. Yes, sorry I missed that, but I was busy saving the world, you know. Yes, do give my apologies to Sir Alistair." The Doctor nodded, obviously at something the other party had said. "Well, that's all well and good, but you'll be able to handle it, I'm certain. Listen, can you do me a favour and shake someone out of the New York office? A scientific specialist of some sort, if you can. Send him up to Princeton-Plainsboro in New Jersey. Thanks, that's the lad. All my best to the missus. No, I won't miss the conference. Good day."

He hung up the phone and grinned. "They gave him a Knighthood, isn't that clever of them. Though I had quite forgotten about...well, never mind that. Different Brigadier, but just as efficient. In two hours, they'll have a scientific expert here from New York."

"What good will that do?" Cuddy sounded somewhat exasperated. "I mean, you're an alien from another planet, one obviously more advanced than ours."

"Yes, but you see, if I just step in and grandly solve all your problems...what will you learn?" Smith shrugged. "I'll be helping you out, certainly, but experience is the best teacher."

* * *

_Day Two, 15:22_

"All sixty-five of these people must have some common trait." Smith was pacing the departmental office. "All of them presented with the same symptoms, and all of them self-medicated before coming in. But that was _after_ they started showing symptoms."

"So we need to determine what happened to cause them to start showing symptoms in the first place." Cameron nodded. "I think we should question them, find out more about their habits. You're sure they're not contagious?"

"Not unless you're a vampire, and I killed the last of them." He paused. "Any news on Tegan?"

"We've started her on intravenous gamma globulin, and it seems to be helping," admitted Chase. "We're still not certain what is causing the edema, fever, and so forth, except that it's not viral or bacteria. But aside from being rather bored, she's doing all right."

"No new heart complications?"

"No. And frankly, that's the one symptom that still puzzles the hell out of me."

"They don't fit," added Foreman. "I think that they're unrelated."

"But she has no history of heart disease." Cameron flipped her notes. "Nothing in the family history, or her own medical history."

"But all that history was gathered from Tegan herself," mused House. "What if she's lying?"

"What reason would she have to lie?" asked Smith.

"The reason doesn't matter. There's always a reason, because everybody lies."

"A rather...pessimistic view."

"I prefer realistic. After all, you told us you were human."

Chase snickered at that. "All right. Getting back to the plague ward. There's five of us, so--"

"Hold on!" Nyssa jumped to her feet. "What about me?"

"You're not a doctor--" Chase rose out of his own chair, leaning across the table towards her.

"I'm a scientist. That's good enough to ask questions, I think."

"Nyssa's in." House waved a hand towards the girl. "If she wants to help, I think she should be allowed to."

Chase frowned. "But she's not on the staff, and hasn't been cleared for it by Cuddy."

"I'll clear her in. Consider it an apology to her for the way you were pawing her during her examination."

Chase darkened, but sat down and shut up.

"So that's six."

"Seven, actually."

Heads turned towards the door. The woman standing there was middle-aged, the red of her hair faded to a muddy colour by gray. She smiled, stepped forward, and held out a hand to Smith.

"Hello, Doctor."

The Doctor grinned widely. "Marvellous." He grasped her hand and shook it vigorously. "Welcome to the team, Doctor Shaw!"

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Bonus points for those who can interpret the Doctor's UNIT Authentication Code._


	8. Chapter 8

**_

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_**

Disclaimer

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

* * *

_Day Three 06:57_

"This team is getting bigger by the moment," complained House.

"And worse, you can't bully the new team members," heckled Chase.

"Don't you have a review coming up?" Chase shrugged, and House scowled. "Great. I can't even bully the old-timers anymore. What have we learned?"

"Nothing, really." Dr. Shaw sat down in disgust. "We spent three hours cross-referencing documents last night. These people have nothing in common except their symptoms."

"Doctor Smith?" House turned towards the Doctor. "I believe that you were talking about nanomachines yesterday afternoon."

"Bioactive nanomachines, yes." The Doctor nodded.

"Pretty advanced technology, possibly of alien origin." House paused. "I know we've asked you this before, but what are the odds that you somehow brought them in?"

"Quite long, actually." The Doctor frowned. "Bionanites don't spread the same way a disease does. That would be astoundingly dangerous."

"This is our problem, Doctor. These things _are_ dangerous." House poured himself a cup of coffee. "Fluid transfers are keeping our patients alive, but in almost every way, this disease is mimicking Ebola. Tegan actually appears to be getting better - not to mention bitchier--"

"Definitely feeling better, then."

"--But your examination of her already proved that your nanogerms aren't the cause of her problem." House paused. "Worse, two of the patients went into cardiac arrest last night...again, not consistent with Ebola. Or with Tegan's case; she had fibrillation, not arrest."

"Tegan's edema appears to be largely on the right side." Cameron considered. "There was some swelling on the left side, but not to the same extent. Could be something in the lymphatic system."

House frowned. "Sounds familiar..." He turned. "Cameron, I want you to check her lymph nodes. All of them."

"_All?_"

"Did I stutter?"

Cameron shook herself, and stood and walked out.

"Foreman. Pick three of our not-Ebola patients, and give them the same treatment. Doctor Shaw, you do the same for three others. Try to co-ordinate with each other, so we get a total of six."

"Got it."

"Nyssa. Are you familiar with these nanothingys?"

"Yes. You're going to ask me to test Tegan for their presence?"

"Yeah. Get on it." House turned to the Doctor. "If their symptoms are being caused by these nanos, how do we kill them? Antibiotics?"

"Bionanomachines are based on viruses."

"Right. No antibiotics. Can we treat whatever disease they're mimicking?"

"Assuming we can figure out which disease it is, perhaps. But the nanomachines will continue to inflict damage until neutralized."

"Then how do we--"

"I'm working on it." The Doctor paused. "Do you have a radiology lab?"

"In a _hospital?_ Surely you jest."

"Radiation can kill the nanomachines."

"And the patients. What else?"

"It wouldn't take much radiation," argued the Doctor. "And if we can pinpoint the exact frequencies needed, we can use a very targeted dose."

"And how would we do that?" House's impatience was starting to show. "Just call up the manufacturing company?"

"I doubt that whoever manufactured them will be willing to admit to it."

"So that leaves us with about squat, doesn't it?"

The Doctor snapped his fingers. "Blood sample!"

House paused. "Expose the blood sample to radiation, measure the nanomachine count?"

"Too crude. But with a powerful enough optical system, such as the electron microscope in the TARDIS--"

"Or the one in our _radiology lab._"

"Yes, that would work as well." The Doctor had the grace to look embarrassed. "Using the electron microscope, we can direct specific frequencies at individul nanites. That will give us a means of testing the therapy."

_Day Three, 09:42_

"One swollen lymph gland. Cervical."

"Really?" House nodded. "I thought so. Start her on IVIG and Heparin."

"Why--"

"She has Kawasaki Disease. Extraordinarily rare." House sat down and sipped his coffee.

"But that's normally found in five-year-old Japanese schoolgirls."

"That's why I didn't recognize it at first. If it was normally found in sixteen-year-old Japanese schoolgirls, I'd see it every night."

Foreman and Shaw walked in. "We just finished examining our patients, and--"

House cut Foreman off. "One swollen lymph gland, cervical. IVIG and Heparin."

Foreman blinked. "How did--"

"I'm psychic. Kawasaki Disease can be fatal if not treated, but we've got its number now."

* * *

_Day Three, 10:16_

"Why Kawasaki Disease?" House was twirling his cane. "If someone was programming a nanomachine to simulate a disease, why would they choose something like Kawasaki Disease? It's only moderately painful, only fatal about fifteen percent of the time...wouldn't it make more sense to make something that simulates Ebola? Or cancer? Or--"

"What if it wasn't designed as a weapon?"

House looked up. "What?"

"You've assumed that someone programmed these nanites as a weapon."

"Yeah." House nodded. "Creating a nanomachine can't be cheap, or easy. Whoever did so would do so for important reasons. The big five for money and talent are military, space, medicine, entertainment, and fashion."

"This one appears to be medical."

"But it causes a disease, or at least a reasonable hand-drawn facsimile." House leaned back, stared up at the ceiling. "That sounds more like a weapon than a medical system."

Nyssa tapped on the glass of his office, and he waved her in. She held out a sheet of paper to the Doctor.

"Don't give that to me. Doctor House is caring for Tegan."

"Sorry." She turned to House. "Tegan's blood showed some nanomachines, but they're not the same ones. Radiation testing proved that they are a fairly standard medical nano."

House glanced significantly at the Doctor. The Doctor raised his hands. "Not my doing."

"Fine." He turned back to Nyssa and took the paper. "Thank you, Nyssa. Your assistance has been invaluable."

She smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Doctor House."

"Now get out of here before I choke on the niceness I'm faking."

Her grin turned wry. "Of course."

"Smart girl you've got there, Doctor Smith." He made sure he said that before she was quite clear of the door. He then made sure that she _was_ clear of the door, and gone down the hall, before adding, "And she's about as hot as I've seen in a while. You hitting that?"

"I'm afraid that I don't quite get your meaning."

"What's that term you Limeys use. Shagging?"

He looked take aback. "But she's an _alien_."

"So are you."

"Not the same species."

"Racist." House glanced back at the paper. "Where's Shaw?"

"Radiology."

"Let's go see her now."


	9. Chapter 9

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* * *

_**

Disclaimer

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

* * *

_Day Three, 10:29_

The doors of the radiology banged open, causing Liz Shaw to jump. House strode in, and grinned.

"Doctor Shaw."

"Yes, Doctor House?"

"How are the radiology tests coming?"

"Give me a second to swallow my heart, and I'll be happy to fill you in."

"You enjoy irritating people, don't you, House?" observed Doctor Smith.

"Absolutely."

Shaw tore a sheet of paper off of the printer. "I've isolated the gamma radiation frequency that shuts down the nanovirus in the infected individuals."

House took the sheet from her, and compared it to the one in his hand. "Matches the one that Nyssa found. A standard nanomachine for medical uses." He glanced over at the Doctor. "Do you have a catalogue of these standard bionanomachines?"

"Yes, in the TARDIS."

"Let's go get it."

* * *

_Day Three, 10:39_

The Doctor unlocked the blue police call box, and stepped in. "Come on, then."

"Like I said, tight fit." House glanced in. Then stepped back, and walked quickly - for him - around the box. He stopped back at the door, brows knitted in puzzlement. "What the hell?"

"The TARDIS extends into five dimensions, not the usual three. As such, the three-dimensional shell that you see on the outside is only a projection."

"Okay, but I'm only equipped for three dimensions."

"The TARDIS does the work for you. Don't worry about that."

"Look, Doctor. I'm a little uncomfortable with this."

"Why?" The Doctor stepped back out of the blue box, carrying - oddly - a golf ball and a cricket ball. "Because you don't understand it?"

"Yeah."

The Doctor tossed him the golf ball. "Which ball is bigger?"

"The cricket ball. What does that have to do with--"

The Doctor stepped back a few feet, and held up the cricket ball. "Now. Which one _looks_ bigger?"

"Right now, the golf ball. But that's only because it's closer."

"Precisely. While you are further away from the TARDIS - say, outside it - you only see the three-dimensional projection of its five-dimensional form."

"That's double-talk."

"Perhaps. It does happen to be true, however." The Doctor turned and tossed the cricket ball into the TARDIS. "You see? The cricket ball still bounces...but further than you can see."

"I just _know_ I'm going to regret this somehow." House stepped past the Doctor and into the box.

He paused at the entrance, and looked around. The room was hexagonal, and so white it hurt his eyes. In the center of the room was a hexagonal control console, dominated by a large crystal column that went halfway to the ceiling. Two other doors led off to other parts of the ship.

But the room was simply impossible; his motorcycle should have been parked just on the other side of the control console.

The Doctor followed him in, and grinned. "Quite nice, isn't it."

"It's very...white."

"I know. The alternate control room is wood-panelled, but I don't care for it. I could change the desktop theme, I suppose, but why bother?" The Doctor walked over to the control console. "All right. Nanomachines...nanoviruses...medical nanoviruses...That narrows it down. Marvellous."

"Narrows it down to how many?"

"Thirty-two billion, give or take. It'll take the TARDIS about three minutes to find the one that matches our beastie."

"Three whole minutes? Thought you space-aliens had real advanced technology!"

The Doctor looked insulted. "Any of your best computers would take five to eight days to find the same results!"

"Yeah, but they can play Pong, too."

* * *

_Day Three, 11:13_

"Between Nyssa and Doctor Shaw, we managed to isolate the nanovirus that is causing the problem."

"I helped," added House.

"Yes. A little." The Doctor turned to Chase. "Doctor Chase. I've got the required frequencies here. Low levels of radiation on the specified frequencies will kill the nanites, and you can then treat for Kawasaki Disease as per normal."

"Thank you, Doctor. How high does the radiation need to be?"

"Less than one milligray."

Chase raised his eyebrows. "That's it?"

"It acts as a switch, not really much more."

Chase shrugged. "Okay."

"So that still leaves one little problem: Where the hell did they come from." House turned back to the Doctor. "Where were you and Tegan before you came here?"

"We've been over this--"

"Did I ask what we've been over?" snapped House. "I don't care if you didn't bring it in with you, but it came from _somewhere_, and you're the closest thing to a link that we have!"

"Be as that may, the fact remains that our last port of call was Heathrow!" The Doctor was starting to get visibly angry. "Except that it was Heathrow in the year one hundred and forty million BC!"

House blinked. "Is that an exact date?"

"Well, I rounded off a bit."

"And what were you doing there?"

"Investigating the disappearance of a Concorde from the year 1981." The Doctor paused. "We did encounter some remains of the Xeraphin species, but that was millions of years ago on the other side of the planet."

"We also encountered the Master," added Nyssa.

"Yes, but this is not exactly his style of plan," said the Doctor. "Much too random, much too little gain."

"Before that, where were you?" asked House.

"The past, again. Well, the future, and then the past. From the 26th century to about sixty-five million years ago."

"And did you encounter any strange alien beings there?"

"The Cybermen--" He paused, and smacked a fist into his hand. "Of course! The Cybermen have time-travel technology, as well. And the Cyberleader was aboard my TARDIS."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I might just possibly have brought this along with me after all." He looked very disturbed at that fact.

"Okay. How can we prove or disprove this theory?"

"With a chronon tracer."

"Gosh. I just happen to have one right here."

"Really?"

"No, you moron." House looked disgusted. "I'm a doctor, not a time traveller. Where can we get one? I somehow doubt that they carry them at Radio Shack. Do you have one in your Tardy, or whatever?"

"TARDIS. I probably do, but it might take some time to find it. It would be in workshop seven, which I haven't seen in almost three hundred years." He perked up. "But we might be able to get one from--Radio Shack, was it? I happen to know how to build one."


	10. Chapter 10

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Disclaimer

_All characters are the property of their respective creators - David Shore, Sydney Newman, Donald Wilson, Bryan Singer, and probably many others I am not aware of. Please don't sue me._

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_Day Four, 08:03_

"I should be surprised." House examined the device. "But somehow, I'm not."

"Surprised why?" The Doctor looked puzzled. "That I could build this?"

"No," said House. "That wouldn't surprise me. Any geek with his parents' basement full of electronics can cobble together almost anything. But this doesn't look like it was made in a basement. It looks manufactured. Mass-produced. In fact, it looks a lot like a GPS."

"I started with a global positioning device, yes. It was a handy base. Then I added additional components. A cell phone was required - I used yours - and--"

"Wait." House held up a hand. "Did you just say you cannibalized my phone?"

"I'll buy you a new one, don't worry about that."

He shrugged. "It means Cuddy can't call me and annoy me. How long did this take?"

"About three hours."

"So at least you got some sleep."

"I don't sleep a lot." The Doctor took the device from House. "Now. I've already fed in the TARDIS' chronon footprint, and I have these detection transcievers here." He held up six small devices, that looked as though they'd been penlights in an earlier incarnation. "We spread out, and search the area around the hospital, and the transcievers will detect the local chronon level and report it back to the base unit." He held up the former GPS again. "Once we have enough data, the chronon tracer will be able to localize any nearby temporal displacement phenomenon."

"Care to say that again in English?" quipped Chase.

"That was English." The Doctor sighed. "With these, we can track down whatever's causing the plague."

"Plague's over," said House. "Cuddy will be discharging the patients later today. They've all been treated, and no new cases have been reported."

"That's fine for the moment," said the Doctor, "but eventually, the nanites will undoubtably pick up another program - that AIDS plague that's currently worrying your doctors, or possibly cancer - have you cured that yet?"

House shook his head. "Been busy. Internet porn. I've scheduled it for next week."

"Wilson will be disappointed," commented Cameron. "Without cancer, he's out of work."

"I'm sure they've got room for him in Overcarer's Anonymous. How's that going, by the way?"

Cameron rolled her eyes.

"What if the source of the plague isn't the hospital?" asked Foreman. "I mean, these people came from all over Jersey."

"I had Doctor Shaw look into that," said House. "Since she's from the away team, I figured she might be able to look at this from an outsider's point of view."

"It seems," said Shaw, "that the infection is centered on the hospital. At first glance, it doesn't appear that way, due to the geography of the area. We have a couple of cases from Plainfield and Brunswick, but the bulk of them are from Trenton. That's the largest population center within the radius of the disease."

"If you plot the simplest circle that encompasses all of our cases," said House, "the center of the circle will be this hospital." He glanced over at the Doctor. "Your claim that you didn't bring it in is looking thinner and thinner."

* * *

_Day Four, 10:13_

"We're getting a lot of traces," said the Doctor. "But all of them seem to be centered on the TARDIS."

"Who's this Master fellow that Nyssa mentioned?"

"Hm?" The Doctor looked up. "Oh, he's a Time Lord. Like myself. Except that he's a bit...well, less friendly."

"Time Lord. Impressive name. What about Cybermen?"

The Doctor blinked. "Where have you heard of Cybermen?"

"You mentioned them earlier," said House. "What are they?"

"Men who have been augmented by cybernetic parts. Eventually, they replaced everything with machinery, and became little better than robots."

"Right." House paused. "When did you last encounter them?"

"Sixty-five million years ago."

House blinked. "Is that in metric years?"

"By our own chronology - that is, that of the TARDIS and her passengers - about a week ago."

"It takes about a week for Kawasaki Disease to reach frank symptoms." House frowned. "Could they build these nanowhatsits?"

"They have the ability, but not the mindset. They would have used purely mechanical nanobots, as they view biological life with contempt."

"And the bad Time Lord wouldn't do anything like this, right?"

"No." The Doctor shook his head. "There is always a method to his madness. This appears to be only madness." He scowled down at the tracer. "More hits, but again, centered on the TARDIS. I have a bad feeling that we _did_ inadvertently bring this with us."

* * *

_Day Four, 10:17_

The grinding, wheezing sound of the TARDIS' engines faded out, as did the box itself. House raised his eyebrows at that, but kept his silence. The box faded back in again, ten feet to the left. The door opened, and the Doctor emerged.

"Well, that's not the first time I've managed a point-to-point hop in this machine, but it never fails to please me." He grinned. "The ship was meant to be operated by six people, you see, and the steering has always been a bit wonky."

"Can't you get it fixed?" asked House. "Surely your fellow Time Lords have a time machine mechanic or two?"

"Well..." The Doctor looked embarrassed. "In the first place, this particular style of capsule is obsolete."

"And in the second place?"

"In the second place, we're not exactly on friendly terms these days."

"Gee, I wonder why." House pulled out one of the temporal detection wands. "Any change?"

"No." The Doctor examined his hand-held unit. "I had thought I'd cancelled out the TARDIS' signature, and it seems that I am right. There's a temporal eddy here. The TARDIS' signature was masking it. We did not precisely bring the plague, but whoever sent it was using us for camoflague."

"Who?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Who knows? We could follow this eddy--"

"Good. Let's go."

The Doctor looked up at House. "Are you quite certain? You know that the steering is somewhat...off."

"I hate unsolved problems. I'm ready when you are."

"Oh." The Doctor opened the door, and waved a hand towards it. "After you, Doctor."

"Thank you, Doctor."


End file.
